I'm Studying You

This entry is sponsored by the letter W.

Hellllloooooo Studyees! A good Tuesday to you all, and what is up? I'm typing this from the comfort of the backyard at 40 Broe, under our semi-delapidated gazebo, using good ol' fashioned dial-up internet. Yes, dial-up. No need for broadband connectivity in The Library, folks. No need to be a part of the modern world and its misgiving technology. Nope, eff that, I say. Eff that and that's what she said, too.

Remember when all internet was dial-up? How excited we were everytime our mouse found something clickable to click on so we moused over it and the text changed colors and we sat with baited breath, wondering for a few minutes where our happy fingers were taking us? Oh, the places we could go! And who could forget the humor and laughs that were had when someone was using the "information superhighway" and you went to make a phone call, thereby interrupting their "world wide web experience" and hearing the pinging and clanging and buzzing and actually experiencing the audible clamor of an internet hard at work, over your very own telephone?

Meanwhile, it's two-fucking-thousand-and-niner, and I'm using dial-up because some fucking kid in the house decided that enough was enough with the modem (to his credit, it does like to fuck with us sometimes), and beat the piss out of it to the point that somethings inside of it began to rattle.

And that's not the worst of it.

He then decides that all of the sudden, he can fix things. So he took the modem apart. Hang on while I catch my breath.

He took the modem apart!

This, mind you, is not our modem. We did not pay for it. Sure, we subsidize it through our Cavalier internet service bill, but it is not ours. Nor do we know if it has a warranty or not. And we don't know if they're going to charge us for it once we tell them our shit isn't right, J's boy ain't right, and they see a modem that hasn't "fallen off the computer desk", as he so put it, but looks like it fell off a computer desk and bounced off of 30 more desks on the way to meeting a cruel death from a blow to the side by a 16 year old's fist. A 16 year old, who's list of failed repair projects reads like Best Buy's sale ad every week, and has no formal training yet somehow seems to know everything about anything there is in the world. A 16 year old who last night argued that sausage ropes made of chicken should be thinner than pork sausage because of the size of a chicken's intestines. Wrap that one around your collective noggins, Studyees, and welcome to my everyday world. It's a world that the only the strong survive, but only if you know everything there is to know about anything, even if you're 100% wrong and enjoy sounding like an asshole about it.

So I'm not happy, and he's trying to make light about things because he feels he did no wrong. I can't even look at him without wanting to inflict harm upon him. He doesn't get it...and it's not that we can even punish him from doing the one thing he loves, because he's already taken it away from himself in that he really can't play online games as well as he used to. So I've got a clueless kid, who doesn't get that he lied about breaking the modem, bored and up my ass about every dumb thing there is in the world that I could possibly give less of a shit about. Meanwhile, we're cancelling the Cavalier home phone and internet package because Time Warner is finally offering a better deal with Roadrunner. They come Thursday to set it up. For half the price of Cavalier, it better be worth it.

What I also realized today, is that all Ietters should be one syllable long and that's it. No more and no less. Letter, say what you have to say and make some room for the next one. I'm looking right at you, W. That's right...every damn letter in the alphabet is one syllable long, but you have to take up three whole syllables. Get over yourself, W. What makes you so special? You're not even a U when halved, you're a V...you look like a UU that went to a Hollywood surgeon who botched your implant-reduction job. You suck, W. You waste my time exaggerating your lies everytime I speak your name in words. You're the problem, W, not the solution.

I'm so glad I got that off my chest, Stogger Nation. It's ranting like this that can only be accounted for when I overextend myself a little too much on coffee...sparked by the agonizing and heart-stomping Bills loss on Monday Night Football to the hated rival Patriots (and don't even get me talking about that) and waking up early because I was opening Borders Express at 8am for the Dan Brown release today (he wrote some book that got really popular about some painter and some kinda system or secretive way of doing things, and today its sequel came out, something about icons or something, or being misled...I flipped through it and could totally ruin it all for you, but then again it sucks so bad that even the lies it lies to me are lies about lies...so I just don't get it) that hardly anyone showed up for, earning myself a wired-up (in two ways) three-hour vacation in which I did nothing. And didn't feel a damn bit guilty.

The only good thing about this stupid dial-up thing? It's only a tad slower than what we had before, and it still works with our router. And it doesn't seem to cut out at all. Unless, of course, the jackass of the house is trying to call on real internet service while a kid is playing a game online. Oh, the joys of dial-up.

All right Stoggers, do your thing while I go in the house and grab a sweatshirt...it's dropping into the 50's out here where I can't be bothered (most of the time at least). Of course, the jackass that cuts the internet by trying to call on better internet is also wearing shorts and a t-shirt while his laptop is being powered by an extension cord running to the backyard. Ah yes, the good ol' days...the simpler times...take it all in and enjoy it Studyees. I thought by now we'd have flying cars. Where's my flying car?? GOODNIGHT NOW!!